This is the kind of instrument that makes things go bump in the night. Film composer Mark Korven (The Witch) recently commissioned his friend and luthier (stringed-instrument maker) Tony Duggan-Smith to make an instrument strictly for scoring horror films. To bring a new level of fright to his compositions, Korven wanted to distance himself from the predictability of using synthesizers or traditional orchestra instruments. What followed was truly a Frankenstein-like effort as Duggan-Smith gathered bits and bobbles from his workshop, and patched them together to make the Apprehension Engine. The body of the instrument is composed of a reverb tank, a hurdy-gurdy wheel and strings-fiddle, an electric battery-powered bow, and steel rulers to grate the ears. The sounds of Korven bowing, plucking, or hitting different parts of the instrument range from creepy to downright unsettling, but they're perfect for a night of double creature features.

This is the kind of instrument that makes things go bump in the night. Film composer Mark Korven (The Witch) recently commissioned his friend and luthier (stringed-instrument maker) Tony Duggan-Smith to make an instrument strictly for scoring horror films. To bring a new level of fright to his compositions, Korven wanted to distance himself from the predictability of using synthesizers or traditional orchestra instruments. What followed was truly a Frankenstein-like effort as Duggan-Smith gathered bits and bobbles from his workshop, and patched them together to make the Apprehension Engine. The body of the instrument is composed of a reverb tank, a hurdy-gurdy wheel and strings-fiddle, an electric battery-powered bow, and steel rulers to grate the ears. The sounds of Korven bowing, plucking, or hitting different parts of the instrument range from creepy to downright unsettling, but they're perfect for a night of double creature features.

Hacking has been around longer than you think. Long before Wikileaks and Russian-hacked email servers and phishing attacks, the term "hacking" described fiddling with electronics or radios in ways not prescribed by the instructions. The first documented use of the term was in the minutes of a 1955 meeting of the MIT Tech Model Railroad Club: "anyone working or hacking on the electrical system, turn the power off to avoid fuse blowing."

But the idea of breaking into technological systems dates back much further. In 1903, a demonstration of Guglielmo Marconi's "wireless" (telegraph) machine was hacked by a competitor. Marconi, who essentially invented radio and won the 1909 Nobel Prize in Physics, was demonstrating his new telegraph machine at London's Royal Institution. The physicist John Fleming was on stage, about to receive a Morse code message sent by Marconi himself—from a clifftop station in Cornwall, 300 miles away. Before Fleming could begin his demonstration, as if by magic, the telegraph machine started tapping out a message in Morse code. It said: "'Rats rats rats rats, there was a young fellow of Italy, who diddled the public quite prettily." Marconi's telegraph had been hacked! The man behind the mischief was Nevil Maskelyne, a London magician hired by Marconi's rival the Eastern Telegraph Company, to thwart the demonstration. Maskelyne had placed receivers throughout London which allowed him to intercept Marconi's transmissions without knowing their frequency. The company and Maskelyne later said they were simply alerting the public to Marconi's false claims that telegraphs were completely private. Hmm, haven't I heard this somewhere before? A publicity stunt that exposes other people's private information and threatens national security, performed by a supposedly humble public servant. Who knew Assange was just a modern day Maskelyne?

Hacking has been around longer than you think. Long before Wikileaks and Russian-hacked email servers and phishing attacks, the term "hacking" described fiddling with electronics or radios in ways not prescribed by the instructions. The first documented use of the term was in the minutes of a 1955 meeting of the MIT Tech Model Railroad Club: "anyone working or hacking on the electrical system, turn the power off to avoid fuse blowing."

But the idea of breaking into technological systems dates back much further. In 1903, a demonstration of Guglielmo Marconi's "wireless" (telegraph) machine was hacked by a competitor. Marconi, who essentially invented radio and won the 1909 Nobel Prize in Physics, was demonstrating his new telegraph machine at London's Royal Institution. The physicist John Fleming was on stage, about to receive a Morse code message sent by Marconi himself—from a clifftop station in Cornwall, 300 miles away. Before Fleming could begin his demonstration, as if by magic, the telegraph machine started tapping out a message in Morse code. It said: "'Rats rats rats rats, there was a young fellow of Italy, who diddled the public quite prettily." Marconi's telegraph had been hacked! The man behind the mischief was Nevil Maskelyne, a London magician hired by Marconi's rival the Eastern Telegraph Company, to thwart the demonstration. Maskelyne had placed receivers throughout London which allowed him to intercept Marconi's transmissions without knowing their frequency. The company and Maskelyne later said they were simply alerting the public to Marconi's false claims that telegraphs were completely private. Hmm, haven't I heard this somewhere before? A publicity stunt that exposes other people's private information and threatens national security, performed by a supposedly humble public servant. Who knew Assange was just a modern day Maskelyne?

The 2000 Coen Brothers film starring George Clooney could have easily been called O Bluegrass, Where Art Thou? It wasn't quite a musical, even though songs like Man of Constant Sorrow were central to the Homer's Odyssey-inspired plot of the movie. But the rootsy sound was no accident: Joel and Ethan Coen brought on producer T. Bone Burnett—who worked on The Big Lebowski, Crazy Heart, and Walk the Line—to record and showcase contemporary versions of traditional American folk music. The soundtrack's centerpiece, Man of Constant Sorrow, is featured in various incarnations throughout the film as vocal performances, guitar solos, and fiddle works. But it's the scene with the old-timey recording by Clooney's character Everett and fellow troublemakers the Soggy Bottom Boys that captured the hearts of audiences. Voiced by Dan Tyminski and accompanied by members of Union Station (Alison Krauss' backing band), Man of Constant Sorrow took bluegrass blazing into the 21st century. Released 17 years ago today, the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack won the coveted Album of the Year award at the 2002 Grammys, and is largely considered one of the most important soundtracks ever recorded. That good fortune has got to give a Man of Constant Sorrow something to smile about!

Below: Man of Constant Sorrow as performed in the film by the Soggy Bottom Boys; a recent recording of the track by Dan Tyminski.

The 2000 Coen Brothers film starring George Clooney could have easily been called O Bluegrass, Where Art Thou? It wasn't quite a musical, even though songs like Man of Constant Sorrow were central to the Homer's Odyssey-inspired plot of the movie. But the rootsy sound was no accident: Joel and Ethan Coen brought on producer T. Bone Burnett—who worked on The Big Lebowski, Crazy Heart, and Walk the Line—to record and showcase contemporary versions of traditional American folk music. The soundtrack's centerpiece, Man of Constant Sorrow, is featured in various incarnations throughout the film as vocal performances, guitar solos, and fiddle works. But it's the scene with the old-timey recording by Clooney's character Everett and fellow troublemakers the Soggy Bottom Boys that captured the hearts of audiences. Voiced by Dan Tyminski and accompanied by members of Union Station (Alison Krauss' backing band), Man of Constant Sorrow took bluegrass blazing into the 21st century. Released 17 years ago today, the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack won the coveted Album of the Year award at the 2002 Grammys, and is largely considered one of the most important soundtracks ever recorded. That good fortune has got to give a Man of Constant Sorrow something to smile about!

Below: Man of Constant Sorrow as performed in the film by the Soggy Bottom Boys; a recent recording of the track by Dan Tyminski.